Funny Guy Friday... Put up your dukes...

Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark.  So, I married a funny (and sometimes sentimental) guy...
    When I was a kid, my brothers and I would fight each other all the time.  In fact, we fought our sisters, our friends, and on at least one occasion, I punched one of my girlfriends right in the face.
     You would think that my father, a very strict man, would have frowned upon this activity.  He did not.  In fact, not only did he not frown upon it, he encouraged it... okay, maybe not the girlfriend pummeling.
     I will go even further.  If we did not strike our siblings and friends with the appropriate power behind our punches or move our feet to deliver a quick follow up punch, my father would act as if we had committed a mortal sin.  These weak efforts would be met with a quick rebuke and an order to resume the violence until we got it right. And we did.  We would go back out and attempt to correctly bash some kids face in.  Occasionally... not too often... we would get our faces smashed in, but either way... my dad loved it!
     You may be wondering why my father raised his boys like we were a pack of pit bulls... let me explain.  My father was the youngest of seven kids. He was raised in Camden, New Jersey, and he told us that out of all the boys who grew up in his neighborhood, he and his older brother were the only two that did not end up dead or in jail.  And from the stories he told, he probably could have met a similar fate.
     He was a fighter.
     He once told me he loved to fight... and was good at it.  I once asked him why he started so many fights and he told me that he never started a fight... but he quickly added... but I never walked away from one either.  
     Since he was so much younger than his oldest sister, he was raised along with his nephews, who were more like siblings to him. He would often remind us that his sister used to nurse him. Ewwww!
     Despite their similar ages, at least two of them were older than he, and still they always referred to him as "Uncle Paul" up until the day he died. When they were kids, his nephews would get teased for various reasons and my father would defend them.  They were not as tough as he was, so he fought for them; he beat up any kid that dared mock his family.  And if he ever thought that he lost a fight to his nephew's bullies, he would show up every day until he thought that he got the better of them.
     He earned a reputation as a tough guy and his nephews became his promoters. My dad would tell us stories of how his nephews used to go to summer camps, arriving before he did. By the time my dad would arrive, his nephews would have already arranged a fight or two with anyone who wanted to take on the challenge.
     When I asked him why would he participate in these fights, he said... Everyone was there, so what are you going to do?
     Walk away comes to my mind!
     At some point in his youth, he took up boxing.  He loved boxing... loved to watch it, talk about it and loved to teach it to his boys.  He would show us how to position our feet and hold our hands.  He taught us how to deliver an effective jab and a powerful right.  He would then put up his hands with his palms facing us and we would bob and weave and throw punches as he moved his hands to avoid our blows.  And if we ever dropped our left hand to deliver a crushing right cross, he would manage to smack us in the face before we could deliver our haymaker. Man, he had quick hands.
     At some point, he purchased a set of 16 oz. boxing gloves. If I recall correctly, they were a Christmas present to one of my brothers.  These gloves were similar to two small pillows that fit over your hands... and allowed you to punch brothers, sisters, friends, and at least one girlfriend in the face.  Don't misunderstand, it still hurt to get punched... just not as bad.
     We had hours of fun with those boxing gloves.  We would rope off a ring in our backyard and invite friends over and go at it. We were not tough kids... not in the sense that we were going to bareknuckle it with some kid at summer camp... but my brothers and I were all pretty good boxers. We knew how to position or feet and hold our hands and throw an effective jab. We had some training  so as a result, we fared pretty well in our backyard ring. My dad would watch and occasionally call us over to tell us to go easy on some helpless sap of a kid or to admonish us for dropping our left when we went to throw our right.
     I had not thought much about those gloves until my nephew posted a picture on Facebook of one of his son's wearing them. That picture brought back a flood of memories.  Some about the boxing in the backyard... but mostly memories of my dad.
     He was the biggest 5 foot 7 man in the history of the world.  Fiercely loyal to his family and especially to my mother.  I once made a smart comment to my mother as I was leaving our living room.  As I walked down the hallway headed to the kitchen, my father met me halfway and pushed me back up against the wall.  He had me lifted up against the front door with one hand under my throat and his forearm against my chest.  He asked me why would I talk to my mother that way.  I panicked and could only come up with... the truth:  I did not know you were home! 
     He tightened his grip and advised that if he ever hears me speak to her again like that I would be... and I quote:  picking up your teeth with a broken arm. 
     I fared better than the Washington Post striker who was picketing outside of a local store.  My dad dropped us off and went to park the car.  As we entered, this poor unsuspecting union worker grabbed my mother by the arm.  Bad move.  One punch later there was one less lucid picketer.
     Yeah, my mom was off limits!  
     My father treated everyone with respect so long as you treated him with respect. He did not always offer his opinion, but if you asked, you'd better be ready for an answer... good or bad!  He was a loyal friend who would be the first to respond in a time of need.  He was a gentleman.
     Remember the story about my punching my girlfriend?  Well, she and I had the gloves on and she started coming at me.  I retreated.  She kept coming and I kept retreating.  She was throwing wild rights and wild lefts.  At some point, I stopped and threw a little tiny jab at her... just to slow the attack.  Down she went.
     Now you may think that I would have been worried that I knocked out my girlfriend.  A little bit yes... but what I was really worried about was how I was going to explain to my dad that I punched a girl!  Luckily, she was okay and laughed it off, and he never found out... and I improved my record to 24 wins and 3 losses!
     You may be wondering why I am writing about him this week.  It is not his birthday.  It is not the anniversary of his death.  It is nothing, really.
      I am writing about him today because I saw a picture of an old pair of boxing gloves.

Funny Guy Friday... Breaking all the rules...

     Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband, Mark.  So... I married a funny guy.
     I hesitate to write this.  I should probably plead the 5th... but Cheryl and I channeled our inner Bonnie and Clyde last weekend.
     Up until last Friday, we had obediently complied with the Governor's shut down order, even if we had not exactly agreed with it.  I go off to work every day and only leave the house to grocery shop.  Cheryl was home bound weeks before the decree from "on high."  In fact, if I didn't tell Cheryl what was going on in the world, she wouldn't even know.
    Some husbands may take advantage of this situation.  Seriously, honey, the Governor said that Tuesday is a statewide golf tournament and every male over the age of fifteen who has a set of clubs has to play!  I do try to keep her properly informed... with my own little spin on it, of course!
    Anyway, last Friday, Cheryl convinced me to run away with her to Ocean City to go to our condo (we own it).  We did so with full knowledge that the Governor did not want us to leave our home and that the Mayor of Ocean City would not welcome us... at our condo (we own it)... in Ocean City!
    We left under the cover of darkness and in our haste to sneak out of town, we forgot to eat dinner. Our first stop was at Wendy's where we were greeted by a nice maskless young man who took our order.  Our food was then prepared by a different, masked man but without gloves, wrapped up by yet another maskless young man and ultimately delivered to us by a maskless older man.  Totally normal under normal circumstances... but we are not operating in normal circumstances.
    This is when my lovely wife chuckled and made the observation that four people that we had never met can prepare and deliver our food to us, but the local priest at our church cannot serve us communion.  She does not get out much but when she does... and I allow her to have her own thoughts... she nails it!
    Once in Ocean City, emboldened by our successful escape from home, Cheryl scoffed at the closed beach signs and took off towards the ocean.  I refused until I saw that there were a few other renegades out there... all probably 60 yards safely away from us... but some (gulp)... flaunted "The Man" by holding hands with one another. I have seen anchor men condemn this abhorrent behavior on the nightly news as violating social-distancing rules. Seriously, does it occur to these talking heads that these hand-holders are probably not total strangers that met out on the street and then decided to march down the block hand in hand? My guess is that they may be a couple that decided to take a walk. I digress.
     Our lone trip away from our condo (we own it), was to the hardware store.  I am always friendly and am just a bit curious as to other people's opinions. I do not get angry at them when their opinions differ from mine, nor do I judge them.  I am just curious.  I completely understand why they feel the way that they do... and at the outset of this episode, I am not sure that I disagreed with them. Remember those original models predicting over a million deaths in the United States alone?
     It was during this conversation that I heard the quote of the day... You have to "comply" because you just don't know, it could be helping people.  
     Cheryl immediately cut the conversation off and said, Well, I am here to just get a key made, while I thought, yes, it could help... or it could not!  It could be that we shut down the greatest economy in the world because it could be helping people. On the other hand, it could not be helping people as much as we thought it would and it could end up hurting more people than it helps.
     So allow me to opine.
     I am not a medical doctor, but I do pay attention. When Cheryl and I first got married, she was the first in her family to marry.  I, on the other hand, was the last in my family to get married. Not surprisingly, I was the Cool Uncle and was always hanging out with my many young nieces and nephews. Apparently, my brothers and sisters never were good at practicing safe social-distancing!
     Anyway, anytime my family would get together, Cheryl would catch whatever the sickness of the day happened to be.  I, on the other hand, never got sick. Cheryl had the immune system of a gnat!  To this day, when the kids are sick, I am the one who lays with them, hugs them and kisses them.  Cheryl is holed up in our room under a wall of pillows.  I am not kidding when I tell you that she caught the flu from her sister while talking to her on the phone... on the phone for goodness sakes!
     Could it be that we need to build up some immunity to this virus and anchoring in our home does not allow for this.  In fact, couldn't it be doing more harm than good.  Of course, we are told we have to stay home in order to "flatten the curve."  Flattening the curve, they said, would allow the hospitals to continue to operate.  By clearing the decks at the hospitals, they would have room to treat the hundreds of thousands of Covid 19 patients that the models (remember the million death models?) predicted were coming.
     Funny thing about closing down the hospitals in order to save room for patients that end up not coming in the numbers predicted... it turns out that the hospitals don't make money under these circumstances. When hospitals don't make money, hospitals lay off workers and potentially... shut down! So we accomplished the goal of not overwhelming the hospitals, but in doing so, we are on our way to putting them out of business.
     As I mentioned, I am not a doctor so I ran my "immunity theory" by a friend who happens to be an ER doctor.  Not only was she not dismissive, she felt there was medical support for that opinion... and I got the impression that she agreed with me. None of that really matters because nobody really knows for sure... which is scary considering the drastic measures taken to combat the spread of the virus.
     Even if quarantining (Cheryl refuses to use the word quarantine as she points out that you quarantine sick people, not healthy people) were the right move... and folks can certainly effectively make that argument... how long does it continue?  This has been going on for six weeks and we are never going to have zero cases.  If we are going to wait for zero cases, we may never see another roll of toilet paper!  We really cannot wait until it is perfectly safe because life is never perfectly safe. Cheryl has pointed out that a life fully lived will never be perfectly safe and why would anyone ever think that it would be.
     Back to our weekend.  We returned home late Saturday night but not before we hit the DQ for some "unprotected cones."  With our adrenalin running at an all time high, we decided to expand our crime spree!  We had the itch and we needed to scratch it!  Breaking the laws of one state was not enough... the next morning, we would be heading south of the border... to Virginia... not Mexico!
     Cheryl had been advised by a pair of underground Catholic dissidents that there was a Mass by a rogue priest in a Virginia city far, far away.  She lobbied all week to make a run for it and I finally acquiesced.
      I am not at liberty to disclose the exact location of the Mass, but suffice it to say we will most likely head back again this week.  And not just because it is directly across the street from an eighteen hole golf course... although getting in 18 before Mass couldn't hurt... but because we were able to receive the Eucharist.  Talk about having to scratch an itch.  By the way, the Eucharist was the only part of the Mass that I understood because the Mass was the original Latin Mass.
      Besides the language barrier, the Mass was interesting... the only time that we got out of our car was for communion. Oh the irony... breaking laws to attend church!  Do I have to confess this transgression... you know... when the confessionals are... er uh... allowed to... you know... open back up? I say no! I say never!
     As you read this tale of lawlessness, you probably think that I am a real badass! Well, truth be told, I am not.  I am as far from a badass as you can imagine.  I am a goodass... the ultimate rule follower.
     I was worried the entire drive to Ocean City and was nervous as soon as we crossed the Virginia state line. Cheryl slept most of the way, and if she wasn't sleeping, she was commenting on the beautiful landscape! She finds beauty in all things... even lawbreaking!
     Consider this for a second.  I was worried making the two hour drive from our house to Ocean City to visit our condo (we own it) and I was nervous attending a Catholic mass in a neighboring state... when I was out of my car for less than three minutes!  I actually rehearsed my lies to the imaginary police officer that might pull me over. Did I say lies... I meant lines!  
     I cannot believe that I am the only one who thinks that we are ready to resume living our lives.  And I say this recognizing that there have been a lot of great things that have come as a result of staying home.  Families have had opportunities to enjoy each other's company... playing games, sitting around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows, enjoying a beer or two or other adult beverages, preparing and eating dinner together or just talking. Besides all the great family time, we are all going to have clean houses, nice yards and know neighbors that we never knew existed six weeks ago!
     It was on the drive back from Virginia that I had a few sobering thoughts. First, why can't churches in Maryland (and everywhere else for that matter) conduct mass like the one we had just attended. Sit in your car and dial the mass number on your phone and after the consecration, wait for your vehicle to be summonsed to the outdoor altar and then return to your car after receiving the Body of Christ! Not ideal but a workable solution.
    Think about this... Easter Mass was not be celebrated anywhere in the world. I am not a theological scholar... but the Catholic Bishops dropped the ball.  A friend told me that Saints are made in circumstances like these and our bishops shut the doors to the church and locked out the flock! It would have been easy to lobby the State to allow for some form of the Mass... just call the same lobbyist that the Home Depot, liquor stores and pot shops hired to get the green light ! Those lobbyists got the job done for their clients. The Catholic Bishops, on the other hand, voluntarily rendered themselves non-essential at a time when they were most needed! While I am thankful for some of the local priests who have continued to allow for confession and adoration, they are in the minority. This is a sad statement for the church and a mistake that may prove to be costly in many ways.
    My second thought is that the shut down... in its current form... has to end. The models were wrong and social distancing worked. While I acknowledge that this is a very serious and deadly virus, the circumstances have changed. The numbers do not add up. The further we go with a total shut down, the closer we get to a depression. What do the models say when the United States, and thus the entire world, enters into the second Great Depression. Doesn't really matter what the models say because the models are wrong. But one thing is undeniable... poverty causes death and the ruination of people's lives! I do not need a model to tell me that!
     I honestly believe that people in the United States think that we can shut our economy down and then start it back up whenever we want.  Don't these people ever watch sports and see when a team clinches the play-offs early in the season and then rests all their starters... that never works.  I also think that many people think that we will never run out of money. I was going to write that the American people are like my kids... but my kids know the value of a dollar... which will be about thirty cents once this is all over. Our country cannot maintain this level of spending.  
    I don't see this as choosing money over life.  I understand what this is doing to families and I understand the serious nature of the virus. But look at the current numbers and it does not warrant a continued shut down. This is not a money vs. life argument... it is a life vs. life argument.
     New York Governor Cuomo said we can do both... and I agree with him.  If keeping social distancing is necessary for the time being, keep social distancing,  If you are a high risk, by all means, stay home.  If you want to wear a mask, wear a mask. Preferably, wear a cool one like the ones with a clown face or a bandana like you are a cowboy robbing a stage coach. While those masks don't necessarily help anybody... another theory that my doctor friend seemed to concur with... people feel better about being around you!
    For the time being, we make compromises.  We...and by we, I really mean someone a lot smarter than I... will come up with a cure.  We are the greatest country in the world... I am not embarrassed to say that.  Of course, I wasn't embarrassed to say I was the Cool Uncle so maybe I am not the best gauge for what is or is not embarrassing. But it is true. We are the greatest country in the world because of our virtues, our courage, our freedom, our liberties and our laws.
    Of course, we all know what the previously mentioned Clyde Barrow's famous last words were... "It takes a virtuous, courageous man to assert his liberties and freedom to occasionally break quarantine laws!"
    Just kidding, he did not really say that.  I made that up to make me look more like a badass than a goodass rule-follower!  And as I reread this I have come to an even more sobering conclusion... Cheryl is the real badass in our family!
    Dear God... please make this end!

Funny Guy Friday... A little advice in these strange times...

    Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
    I went off of Facebook for Lent so it has been about nearly a month since I logged on to see what was going on in the world.  I have no idea what you have been eating, what your talented children have accomplished, or which idiot/brilliant politician has done what to whom.  So tell me... What have I missed?
    What's that?... The country is on lock down? What? How is this possible? 
    Of course, I am kidding.
    I did not give up watching the news for Lent, so unfortunately I do get daily updates.
    Since this all started, I have begun each morning by playing a traditional little dice game called Shut the Box.  This is a game with number tiles 1 through 9 standing tall in a row, and as you roll the dice, you shut the numbers that add up to what you roll.  The goal is to shut the box with no numbers standing.  Each morning before I leave, I tell Cheryl that the fate of my whole day rests upon whether or not I can shut the box... or at least have a reasonably low number remaining.
    The lower the number, the better the day.
    The higher the number, the worse the day.
    It is kind of based on science and is difficult to explain to the untrained board game players... so I won't even try.
    You would think that there would be a lot of high scores lately.... and there have been.  Each day you hear about the number of people getting the coronavirus, the death count, the lack of equipment, the quarantine and of course, the shut downs.
    My Monday at work was interesting.
    I had just gotten off of a phone call when two of our secretaries came into my office in tears asking what we were going to do.  My response:  About what?
     The Governor just shut down "all Maryland businesses!" (I put that in quotes for a reason.)
     Calmly, I responded:  Everyone needs to settle down and let's figure this out.  This just happened.  I will go talk to Mark Davis (my partner) and we will come up with a plan.  For now, let's stay calm and remember, we are all in the same boat.  We will get through this together.
    Then I confidently marched down the hallway to Mark's office...  I may have even managed a wave of assurance to the clearly shaken employees.
     I entered his office where he was having a discussion with his wife and I said... WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? THE GOVERNOR JUST SHUT ALL MARYLAND BUSINESSES DOWN!  I TOLD THE GIRLS TO SETTLE DOWN BUT THAT IS JUST STUPID ADVICE! I SAID WE WERE IN THE SAME BOAT... BUT WE REALLY AREN'T!  MY BOAT IS WAY WORSE THAN THEIR BOAT! I TOLD THEM THAT WE ARE IN THIS TOGETHER BUT ISN'T IT TIME FOR EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF?!  
    Not really.
    We sat and tried to formulate a plan, but there was still so much uncertainty.  As more information rolled in, it turned out the Governor's urgent "shut down" had exceptions for "essential personnel."  As you may or may not know, I am an attorney, but my partner and I also own a title company and a real estate company.
    Who knew that all three would be deemed essential?
    I don't ask why; I just am thankful we could stay open... along with the liquor stores and the pot shops.  While I am on the topic... why did they have to shut down the golf courses?  Frankly, I am addicted to golf and will have withdrawals if I can't play for months.  Anyway, now we have to figure out how to keep our businesses open when there is nobody else doing business... but we will figure that part out in time.
    By the close of business that day, I felt like George Bailey from It's a Wonderful Life, when he was able to keep the Building and Loan open after Uncle Billy had lost the deposit.  I told everyone that I would see them the next day...  and it kind of meant something.  I told them that they should be sure to say some prayers because you cannot both worry and pray at the same time.
     I really was quite confident and reassuring, and I exhibited what theologian Dr. Taylor Marshall refers to as "non-anxious leadership."  How did I get to be so calm, cool and collected?  How did I become this soothing influence in a sea of craziness.  Well, I am posting this today to let you all in on my little secret.
     Here it is... are you ready?
     It is very easy, and it only requires one thing:  marry my wife, Cheryl.
     You see... there is only one thing in this world that ever upsets my wife and that is me.  Well, not me necessarily, but how things affect me... my worrying to be specific.  And while troubleshooting and... okay...  worrying is not necessarily a bad thing, it cannot be the overriding thing.
    Sure... everyone has to do what they can to help deal with their current circumstances.  Personally, I have decided that I will not shave until the problem is resolved... or until I get tired of growing a beard.  Nearly two weeks in... and the virus is winning because my face feels like it stumbled into a bee hive.  On a side note, although she says she is drawn to the look of it, I do not think Cheryl likes the beard all that much because ever since I started growing it, she has been practicing "safe social distancing"... if you know what I mean.
    I have also been doing a lot of praying because as Cheryl has pointed out:  you cannot both worry and pray at the same time.  I may have stolen that line from her!
    She has also directed me to a blog with Dr. Taylor Marshal that talked about non-anxious leadership.  I dropped Dr. Taylor Marshall's name a few paragraphs back to seem like I was wise enough to seek guidance from theologians that are smarter than I... as if.  The truth is that I had to go back to the blog to see what kind of Dr. this joker is.
     On a separate note, in my opinion, the only non-M.D. that should be referred to as "Doctor" is Dr. J.  Every other non-medical doctor that refers to themselves as Doctor is just someone pretending to be smart and seeking attention!  I digress.
     Okay, so marrying Cheryl may not be as easy now as I made it look when I asked her to marry me after only six weeks of dating.  But you can do the next best thing.  You can surround yourselves with Cheryl-like people.  People whose faith is going to help get you through this.  I am not going into this coronavirus situation with blinders.  While people may disagree with how the government and the churches are dealing with this (I have some suggestions for the Catholic Churches, if anyone is interested), I think one thing is certain, our lives are going to change.
    Or, you, yourself, can strive to be Cheryl-like.  I would recomend that you do so without some of Cheryl's little ideosyncracies that I will not mention at this time, as we may be spending even more time together than normal in the coming weeks.    
    Fortunately, there is one thing that will not change.
    God is looking out for us.  We are going to be okay.  Cheryl lives by this mantra:  All things work together for good to them that love God."... which is way better than my mantra: Things can turn crappy any minute.  I made my mantra up while Cheryl tells me that she stole hers from some Roman guy in the Bible.
     Cheryl says her life has not really changed much.  She wakes up and she prays.  She homeschools Noah (we find these reports of parents struggling with their kids home to be comical), and she goes about the business of the home. She orders her days, she cleans, she plans and makes the meals, and every evening she gathers us together for the Rosary.  She assures me... and everyone else around her... that God has this... we are not in control anyway.  She understands what is happening, and she knows who is in control.
    She reminds me that the results of my daily Shut the Box games are really not scientific and have no bearing on how the day is going to go...  And that every day is a good day...  trust God!
    I never said she was perfect!  Shut the Box really is kind of technical... I'll keep working with her! Some day, she will get it!  
    Hope everyone is staying safe and know that we are praying for you all!  For now, let's stay calm and remember, we are all in the same boat.  We will get through this together.
   

Funny Guy Friday... Christmas in Texas

Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband, Mark. So... I married a funny guy...

    The first serious thought of returning to write Funny Guy Friday came at Christmas... Why? you ask? Let me tell you what I did on my Christmas vacation.  

    We are a family of Christmas traditions.

    Every year we do the same things, go to the same places, and see the same people. I love it, and I never want to change a thing.

    Until this year. Since this was Gracie's first year away from home, we decided to surprise her on Christmas Day and show up at my sister’s home in Houston. The newlyweds moved to Killeen, Texas last October. They live four hours from my sister in Houston. So Grace and Brian, along with all five of my sister’s kids and their kids, were going to be at my sister's for Christmas dinner. The only person that knew we were coming was my sister.

    This was a big move for me.

    On the way from the airport to their house, Noah asked if I thought Gracie was going to be surprised.  Do you really think that Grace suspects that I would ever leave town on Christmas Day?

    Then we discussed how we were going to spring our surprise.

    Cheryl suggested that we just barge in and start singing Christmas carols. The boys… and I mean all the boys including the dad boy, rejected this out of hand. It was three against one so, of course, we decided to... just barge in and start singing Christmas carols.  

     When we arrived, Cheryl, finding a locked front door, rang the doorbell and then inexplicably, ran and hid. She ding dong ditched, leaving the three no votes on the porch… ill-prepared to sing. Eventually, Cheryl reappeared and announced our presence. Grace was upstairs but was eventually was led out to see her mom with arms wide open… the visit was off to a great start.

     If you are Italian, you may have heard of the “Feast of the Seven Fishes.” Each course involves some variety of seafood. My sister went in a slightly different direction with the “Myriad of Five Meats.” There was turkey, ham, bacon, prime rib, and a roast. On a side note, don't tell my sister that she served prime rib, which is not the same as a roast… but she kept calling the prime rib a roast, much to the amusement of her daughters… who pointed out that the prime rib was probably a tad offended to be called a roast.  

    Anyway, dinner was delicious. We all had a wonderful time. The conversations were entertaining; the company was delightful. It was picture perfect, like a Norman Rockwell painting.

    Right up until the vomiting started.  

    What's that? Vomiting?

    Um... yes. Apparently, the twenty-four hour stomach flu started tearing through my sister's family about 5 minutes into our visit. Upon greeting my nephew and asking... Hey how’s it going?... I think he may have mentioned something about a queasy stomach. Yeah, that was just chit-chat formality stuff. Am I really required to listen to his response? Anyway… he is a doctor. He would have known if there had been cause for concern.

    The first to really fall was my niece’s husband. No problem, I thought. He is not blood-related, so he probably comes from a long line of people with weak immune systems. Palumbos are strong… like Bull!

     Next was his wife, my niece. She is blood-related… but from a different branch off the ol’ family tree. She's my sister's kid, but with no real direct line to me.

    By this time, my wise daughter Grace and her heedful husband Brian bolted to the nearest hotel to try to escape the outbreak. They urged us to join them, but we said we would take our chances. The rest of my sister's kids folded through the night. Weaklings who have forgotten that they have Palumbo blood in their veins.

    My kids are studs, they would never allow some silly flu to ruin this Christmas vacation. I don't get sick, so they don't get sick.

    Who am I kidding. Yes they do. While it’s true I hardly ever get sick, Cheryl and the kids have the immune systems of gnats. Sick gnats.

    I had actually made a note on my cell phone that Matthew would be the first to break ranks, followed by Cheryl, who would get it worse and have it longer than everyone else.
Matthew would be the first. Cheryl would be the worst.

    Why did I record this on my phone?… so I could say I knew this would happen. Just another way to let everyone know how smart I can be. What do you know?... I was right on both counts.

    Since we knew we had to high-tail it out of sick-bay central, we packed up as soon as we realized the body count was five and probably climbing, not counting my sister’s husband who had come down with the actual influenza through the night.

    Time to go. Four hours north to Gracie’s new home.  

    Matthew, of course, started yawning in technicolor before we could make our speedy getaway. Always pleasant traveling in the nice rental vehicle with towels and buckets at the ready. It was so bad that I actually felt guilty stopping at the Dairy Queen for a nice little strawberry sundae. As an aside, strawberry sundaes are just as good in Texas as they are in Maryland.

    Matthew had to take our word for it.

    Grace's husband Brian went down swinging that very night, despite his attempt to seek refuge in a hotel the night before, but he manned up and went to work the next day. Of course, I think that was more of an opportunity to get away from us as it was a reflection of his admirable work ethic.

    Cheryl was next. Naturally. 
If you’ve never had an illness around Cheryl, you wouldn't know that whatever you have, she has it ten times worse. So, for example, if I have a headache, she has a migraine. If I have a scratchy throat, she has strep. If everyone in the state of Texas has a twenty-four-hour bug, she has it for forty-eight hours. You guessed it… forty-eight hours of tummy issues for my darling wife.

    Besides predicting the general order of things, I also knew one more thing about my darling daughter. While Grace may not catch the bug, she will worry so much about catching the bug, that it would be better for everyone involved… if she just caught the damn bug! True to form, she kept “feeling weird” and loading up on vitamins and essential oils… the snake oil of our day. Fortunately, she never did catch the stomach flu, but I kind of wish she had. She would have saved herself a lot of anguish.

    Noah and I were the only real survivors. We were the only two able to make every meal, every game of bowling, and every shopping spree.

    Speaking of shopping sprees, did I mention that Chip and Joanna Gaines live an hour from Killeen? Evidently, you can't be one hour from the Magnolia empire and not pay a visit.

    Let me tell you, those folks are marketing geniuses. They can take a ten dollar item, slap a Magnolia sticker on it, and sell it for twenty. The place was packed and the lines were long. But I must admit, there was an air of festivity about the place. And the cupcakes? Well, you have to taste them to believe them.

     Matthew mentioned that the whole Magnolia experience kind of reminded him of that scene from Santa Clause 3 when Jack Frost had converted the North Pole into a theme park… Remember wives, the amount of money your husbands spend on you is directly related to how much they love you! Apparently, I love Cheryl quite a bit. And I would have loved her a lot more had she not purchased all sale items!

    All in all, aside from the upchucking, we had a great time on our Christmas vacation. At the end of the week, as we headed back to Houston, I mentioned that there is really only one thing that would ever bring me back to that part of Texas. The cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery, of course.

    Just kidding. I was talking about Grace, of course.

    Just not on Christmas Day. The thought of doing that again kind of makes me feel sick to my stomach.   

Funny Guy Friday... Changes on the horizon...

    Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark. So, I married a Funny Guy...
    So it has been a while.
    Let me fill you all in on what's happening since we last met.  I will do so in chronological order so you can fully grasp what we have in store.  Sit back... Enjoy... FEEL MY PAIN!
    Noah got confirmed last week.  Beautiful Mass followed by a little dinner party at the house for friends and family. Nice lead off event!
    Matthew goes to his senior prom next weekend.  Bought him a tux instead of renting.  Why, you ask? You will understand in a moment.
    Grace graduates from Mount Saint Mary's on Mother's Day... she gets no party.  And while no party for a family that commemorates every big event (birthdays, baptisms, major holidays, including but not limited to Flag Day, first bike rides and that time we caught a mouse) with a party full of  food, wine, beer and great merriment, not having a party for graduating college may seem odd.  Trust me, you will understand in a moment.
    Matthew graduates from High School in three weeks. He does get a party.
    Grace gets married on Father's Day weekend.... WHAT? Grace gets married on Fathers Day?... that can't be right... who would do that to their dad... I mean parents.  
    Well... okay... I do mean who would do that to their dad.  The ink is not even dry on the last tuition check. I waffle between liking the fiance... by the way, I can't stand that word... and hating him for what he is doing to me.
    Not really... I like him... sort of.
    Now you understand why no to the Gracie graduation party and yes to the Matthew tux, but we are still not done.
    Matthew leaves for college in August... going to Salisbury University. He is excited and has even told friends, I have a beach house thirty minutes away.
    Not so fast young squire!  I am not an accountant but that beach house may be in foreclosure by September.
    Finally, my bankruptcy in October.

    So now that you are all caught up, I will let you all in on a little secret.  I am very excited about all of the changes and celebrations and have nothing but excitement and joy at each of the above referenced events... except the foreclosure and the bankruptcy.
    But one big event that I did not mention does have me feeling a bit melancholy. I don't use the work melancholy much, so I am going to tell you that I think of melancholy as not quite sad but a little bit sad.
    Yesterday, the Spalding baseball program had its annual Senior Night honoring the graduating seniors.  Matthew has decided that he probably will not play college baseball.  He once asked me if I would mind if he did not play in college, and I told him that it was entirely up to him and my goal had always been to help get him ready to have a good high school career.
    Baseball all started when I was out throwing a wiffle ball at him when he was six years old.  A dad in the neighborhood was out scouting local talent and asked if Matthew wanted to come play machine pitch. Apparently, they were looking for a portly blond kid that took hacks. I had never heard of machine pitch and thought that Matthew was too young to get involved.  We went to a try out, and not only did he play, but I resurrected my coaching career.  We were the Bees... as in buzz buzz Bee. We had two girls on our team and one wore a skirt to every practice and to every game.  The other... I wanted Matthew to marry someday... she was cute and had a nice swing. It was the beginning of a fun-filled career and friendships that will last a lifetime.
    Matthew was a chubby kid that all of the sudden got skinnier and more athletic.  He made a ten year old All Star team in Little League when he was nine... despite the fact that his coach did not lobby for him to be on the squad.  That idiot coach was proved wrong when he played well and even  broke up a no hitter.
    On a side note... his mother still has not forgiven me for not lobbying for him to be on that team. 
    He (We) worked hard at being a better baseball player.  Besides our regular practices, we would go out and hit by ourselves for hours.  Teammates began to join us at these informal workouts and they became a big part of nearly everyone's Saturday morning routine... as long as the temperature was above fifty degrees... my rule, not Matthew's.
    I coached him up until he was twelve years old. That final year may have been one of the most fun times coaching that I had ever had.  A group of kids that gave every ounce of talent they had with parents that understood what this was all about.  This was also the first team that he played on that he was clearly one of the better players.  I will tell you that it is easier to coach your son when he is not one of the best players on the team, but Matthew made it easy because he always worked hard and he never expected anything different from me. Unfortunately, Matthew had to drive home with his coach and his coach was not always as calm in the car as  he was on the field... you know, when all the parents were watching me.
    Our "car discussions" often led to my apologizing the next day. Matthew was always so quick to forgive me and tell me: Don't worry about it, I know I have to get better.  
    Of course, this just made me feel worse.  It was sneaky the way he would do that!
    Matthew went to Spalding High School in large part to play baseball.
    His cousin is the head coach at Spalding.  Not sure if this helped or hurt Matthew, but he did not make the JV team his freshman year and was sent to play on the freshman team.  Matthew took advantage of his playing time and had a great year.  His sophomore year was spent on the JV team and I would venture to say that this was as much fun playing baseball as he has ever had with guys that he loved. Every practice had a funny story to tell.
    The past two years he has played on Varsity, coached by his cousin Joseph.  Joseph is demanding of all of his players and he expects them to work hard.  I never thought that Joseph was any harder on Matthew than he was on any other player.  The only difference between Matthew and everyone else was that Matthew had to hear how he screwed up and then go out to dinner with Joseph or see him at every celebration like baptisms, birthdays, major holidays, including but not limited to Flag Day, first bike rides or the time we caught that mouse.
    It was not always easy for Matthew, but he rarely complained, and whenever we would talk about it, he would ultimately say, He is right, I have to get better. 
    Matthew's senior year has not gone exactly as planned.  He has played well but never as good as he would like... you never do. Facing great pitching every night doesn't help. But like always, Matthew is positive and they are making a push for the playoffs.
    But I will say this... I have never been prouder of Matthew than I am this year.  He has, in my humble opinion, emerged as one of the team leaders.  Always in the right place, always positive, always encouraging, and always working hard.  He cares first about the team... which is a quality that is getting rarer and rarer as "travel baseball" focuses on an individual's size, velocity, exit speed, pop time, and time in the 60 yard dash (which I never understood because you never run 60 yards on a baseball field).
    Hitting a ground ball to the right side with a runner on second does not get you noticed and please don't ask me to bunt.
    Let's just say that to many kids, the team and winning is no longer the main priority.  I understand travel baseball... I just don't like travel baseball.   
    From his time on the Bees to his senior year at Spalding, baseball has afforded Matthew opportunities to develop as a person.  I will clearly state that Matthew is a better person than he is a baseball player.... and I mean this as the ultimate compliment. Unfortunately, I may have been a better player than I am a person... and I was not that good of a player... so this may explain a few things in my life.   
    The other day, I asked Matthew if he wanted to go and hit and he said that it was okay, that I did not have to do that... and then said something about my being old! I told him that it was quite alright. I wanted to throw to him because, with the season winding down, this would most likely be the last time I would be able to do it.
    I considered it well worth the risk of a sore elbow and an achy back.
    Confirmations, graduations, and weddings are the beginnings of new chapter in everyone's life.  On the other hand, Matthew's baseball career is coming to an end.  This makes me sad (sad is more accurate than melancholy).  Not sad for Matthew.  He has grown up playing a game that he loves and along the way, has learned life lessons that will help make him successful... no matter what he does.
    I am sure he will miss baseball, but he will find something else to fill his time. College offers lots of opportunities. Good for him.
    But I ask... What am I supposed to do?
    Fortunately, Grace has me covered until mid-June! After that... I guess I will make a few tee times with my younger son Noah.
    There you go... Golf... something I can do with the boys for the rest of our lives! 
    Sign me up!

Funny Guy Friday... Rules is rules...

    Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy.
    Michael Irvin is a wide receiver that played for the Dallas Cowboys.
    I hated the Dallas Cowboys.
    He attended college at the University of Miami. "The U" as they annoyingly refer to it. The U was full of talented self-professed gangsters that attempted to... and often succeeded... in intimidating their opponents. I hated the University of Miami.
    Irvin had one of the worst reputations in the NFL. Often boastful and loud and frequently in trouble with the league. I hated guys that acted that way!
    Michael Irvin was the type of guy that I loathe.
    Having said that. Michael Irvin may just be one of my favorite players of all time.
    Why? you ask?
    Michael Irvin was on the very first fantasy football teams that I ever owned.
    He was awesome that year, leading the Palumbo Patriots to the championship in the inaugural year of the BSFL. The League initials were derived from the founder of the league, Barry Smith. Either his initials... or another word that has the initials BS... I was never sure.
    Barry dubbed himself The Commish and ruled with an iron fist. He was not kind, and he was not benevolent! RULES IS RULES was his mantra... and always in caps!
    We were ahead of our time.
    The first year of the BSFL, we met at The Commish's house and immediately retreated to his basement. There were no computers, no internet, no cell phones, no shows dedicated to "the top fifty running backs for fantasy football." And no computer drafting. The Commish took a roll of paper and taped it to the wall.  We walked up with a magic marker (sharpies had not yet been invented) and we wrote down our picks. The pressure was on to not only make a good selection but to do so with good penmanship.
    There were twelve teams whose owners were manned with football magazines that were purchased... typically on the morning of the day of the draft. Magazines were necessary so we could figure out who the hell we were drafting after the fifth round. It took hours to get through the draft and guys would draft players that were injured and out for the year or guys that were retired or my personal favorite... drafting guys that had already been drafted. That would typically consist of someone saying...
      With my last pick of the night, I will take Dan Marino. I am surprised he is not already taken!
      He was taken at 8:15 with the third pick of the draft, you idiot. Please, dear God, just pick someone... it is 2:30 in the morning! 
      There was no computer scoring system. We had to get the newspapers out on Monday or Tuesday and calculate the scores for ourselves and the person we were competing with that week. We had occasional controversies but the league policed itself. For instance, one playoff week my kicker attempted an extra point but the snap was bad and he never got the chance. A missed extra point was -1 point. This; however, was not a missed extra point as it was never attempted and I won the week by one point.
      Naturally, a protest was filed.
      Typically, all protests would be submitted to the Commish and he, like Roger Goodell, ruled with an iron fist. He was my competitor that week so he agreed to submit the protest to another very smart, very intelligent member of the BSFL (who also happened to be a fellow member of the Bar... legal Bar not the other bar).
      I am sad to say that I actually submitted a legal brief on the subject... obviously, it was very persuasive!
    By the way, the arbitrator was very smart and very intelligent man because he ruled in my favor issuing a well thought out, well reasoned opinion siding with the side of justice and the American way!!!
    We had a great time with the BSFL.
    Twelve teams but thirteen guys. One team was a brother combo... two knuckleheads that couldn't make a decision to go out of the room to pee without meeting with each other three or four times. On one occasion they called another team and proposed a trade. When the trade was accepted, they accused the guy of trying to rip them off... on the trade that they proposed! Those two only lasted a year or two. Not sure if they quit or were asked to leave. I am guessing they were asked to leave because it would have taken them at least four seasons to come to the agreement to leave the league!
    Every year we would get together three times. Once for the draft, once for a mid-season get together and once for the the season finale at some restaurant where cash prizes were awarded and the bottom six treated the top six to dinner and drinks. It was always good to be an eater as opposed to a buyer!
    I had a lot of success during my time with the BSFL. The inaugural championship and a couple second place finishes. Most years I was a eater.  It didn't really matter if you were a winner or a loser because it was always good to get everyone together to talk about what else... fantasy football!
    All of this is fresh in my mind because my son is now competing in a couple of fantasy leagues... but it is not the same. Last year, he drafted his team in the car while were driving on the Ohio Turnpike. The entire draft took about forty five minutes and it was all done on line. If he did not make a selection in two minutes, the computer selected for him. Once the season starts, he will log onto a website to check his scores and he will never have any contact with any of the other guys in the league.
    What is fun about that?
    Nobody to yell at when they select Aaron Rodgers for the second time in the eleventh round and proclaim I got a sleeper in the eleventh round. Nobody to protest a scoring error to. No-one to laugh at when they select Peyton Manning to lead their squad through the 2017 season only to be reminded that he retired two years ago. Okay, I'll take Ryan Tannehill... he's good, right? 
     Yep, he is great... but he is out for the year, you idiot!!!
     Not to sound like an old curmudgeon but... our way was way better. I know that watching the games and keeping track of your players during the season is going to be fun for folks, but there is no personal interaction with other guys in the league. Of course, the lack of interaction is perfect for a generation of kids that never talk to each other but spend every second texting.  Never a conversation but constant contact.
     It is all very idiotic to me!
     They need to do the draft in person. They need to meet periodically. They need to laugh at each other and make fun of their stupid draft picks. They need to do it the way that we used to do it.
     They need to draft a guy they hate... from a team that they hate... from a college that they hate... and then fall in love with that guy!
     This is the way we did it. This is the way they should do it. It has to be this way.
     After all... a very wise man once proclaimed RULES IS RULES!  

Funny Guy Friday... Negotiating a trade...

     Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     It is that time of year... the baseball trade deadline is fast approaching.  Every team has to make the choice whether they want to trade young potential talent for older, more established talent. A good trade will work out for both teams while a bad trade might set a team back for years to come.
     This past week we made our own trade of sorts. Noah was invited by my best friend and his wife,   PJ and Geraldine Smith, to go to an art camp in St. Michael's with their son and another friend. The Smiths recently invested in a home in Saint Michael's, so the boys would stay with them for the week. I have not been to the new home but I am pretty sure it is a small shanty, so the boys will be  suffering through cramped quarters. A little discomfort isn't a bad thing. I thought it would be good for Noah to see how some of the less fortunate kids live.
    Art camp does not seem very interesting to me, but my man Noah was all in. He went off with the notion that it would be fun being bored at art camp and roughing it on the Eastern Shore with his buddies.
     Anyway, the day after Noah left, Grace's boyfriend Brian came for a visit. Cheryl and I decided to take the week and see what, if any talent the kid might possess.  It was not a full-out trade because eventually, I would insist that Brian go back to PA and make Noah return to the bosom of our home, but we were open to giving the switch a chance.
     I have to admit that Brian got off to a good start.
     He recently returned from a missions trip to Mexico City.  While in Mexico, he picked up a few things at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe. He brought Grace a beautiful rosary made from rose petals and a framed painting of Our Lady for my wife.  Now he said it was a gift for "the family," but it was really for Cheryl. Cheryl gushed over his kind gesture, while Matthew stood behind him making kissing lips. Although nobody said it, we all knew what Matthew was thinking... What is your super power... butt kissery?    
      Cheryl rushed to get a hammer (actually a crab mallet because we can never find a real hammer) and nails. She picked out the biggest wall in the house and hung that 6 by 8 inch picture.  I am guessing the picture was so small because he was operating on a tight budget.  The picture now hangs on that big wall with a small spotlight shining directly upon it.  
      Gifts are good but Noah cooks all of our meals! There was no way that this trade was going to make our home better.
      Besides giving gifts, Brian also gets Gracie in a good mood... so that counts for something. But did I mention that Noah cooks all of our meals?
      But as the week wore on, there was a surprising turn of events. Something fabulous happened. Gracie and Brian went grocery shopping and offered to make dinner. They started out with a lime chicken dish with asparagus and rice.  I have to say that it was the... best... chicken... ever! Dare I say... cooked to perfection.
      The following day, Grace and Brian followed the chicken dish up with stuffed shells, caesar salad and Italian bread. After this meal, I forgot all about our young son... the one who draws a bit and recently broke his ankle. Moses... or some other biblical name.  We didn't really need him anymore so you know what they say, out of sight... forgotten! 
      Perhaps we could finalize this trade after all!
      The problem was, I began to feel sorry for the little guy that is related to us. He was suffering through an art camp on the hottest week of the year, living in a little cubby hole of a home. I am sure that he was missing us and suffering from home-sickness.
      Then the pictures and the text messages started rolling in.  What I saw was shocking.
      Who knew that they were staying a Five Star establishment... the Smith Carlton Regency Hotel. Complete with swimming pool, kayaks, ping pong tournaments, bike rides, and a week long monopoly game.  Would be nice if the Smiths ever invited Cheryl and me to their new palatial estate. I would say it has a beautiful view of the river, but it is smack dab on the river. I am not bitter, but I would point out to stupid ol' PJ that I can make friends with anybody... any day of the week... I don't need him! I never liked him.
      I suppose that is a story for another day!!!
      Anyway, Noah was having a ball and was not missing us at all. He loved art camp and even got asked to help the instructor with a project she will be working on in Virginia. He was swimming, kayaking, ping ponging and having a great time.
     That ungrateful little...! I bet he was trying to negotiate his own trade!
     And to add insult to injury... he made them Bang Bang Coconut Shrimp one night.
     I don't care how many gifts the boyfriend brings... or how many meals he helps make... I want my Noah back! Don't tell Grace, but Noah is younger and better than Brian.
     As I contemplated the week, I was really happy for Noah... and thankful to the Smiths. Noah is an eleven-year-old that has been doing a lot of grown-up things lately. Besides cooking our meals, Noah is a big help with my mother. He helps her get dressed, walks with her and calms her when she worries. He needed some time to just be a kid and hang out with his boys.
     Of course, I am still a little bitter that he did it at my best friend's new vacation home that I have never been invited to.
      All in all, I think it was a good week for everyone. Now if the Nationals could just trade for a closer, things would be perfect!  

Editors note: Apparently, Funny Guy is a prophet because the Nats got their closer!

Funny Guy Friday... Who loves Dad the best?

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy.
     This past weekend, we took a road trip to visit some friends in New Jersey. It is a relatively short trip... about four hours. Four hours is child's play for this family.
     We are great travelers. Matthew has his ear plugs in listening to music... completely unaware of anything around him. Noah watches some show on our iPad... barely aware of anything around him. And Grace texts with her friends or surfs snap chat stuff... giggling at her and her friend's inside jokes, unaware of anything else around her.
     Occasionally, all of the stars align and we find ourselves talking to each other. When this happens,  we have to strike fast and take advantage. On this particular occasion, about an hour into the trip, I decided to drop a very important question... If Mom and I ever get divorced, would you guys ever go visit her or would you be so mad at her actions that you would spend all your time with me? 
     You may have noticed that I made a few assumptions in my question. First, that the divorce would be Cheryl's fault. Second, that the kids would gravitate towards me.  This is a given... I am the fun parent.    
     This used to be an easy question to answer.
     Three years ago, had we gotten a divorce, Noah would have gone with Cheryl... Matthew would have gone with me... and Grace would have gone with her friends. Nowadays, the division of our children is not as easy to predict. I thought it important to get a feeling for what we would do in our hypothetical divorce.
     Noah was first to chime in... Okay, who has the best lawyer? I will go with the one with the best lawyer! 
     I was proud of this response... he has been paying attention to all of my stupid lawyer stories. I was irritated at Noah when he followed up with... Are you representing yourself, Dad?... because if you are, I'll be going with Mom! 
    Cheryl turned to Matthew and asked... You'd go with me, wouldn't you Buddy?
    I looked in the rear view mirror and what I saw was perhaps one of the most impressive things I have ever seen. Matthew made eye contact with me through the mirror and while saying... Of course, I would go with you Momma!... he was shaking his head no and pointing at me!     
    Try to do that. Try to shake your head no while saying yes when someone puts you on the spot. And he did it with complete sincerity in his eyes. He made the right decision and he did it with style!
     Grace never really responded. Well, that is not exactly true... she did say Hey check this out, some lady pooped herself when she found out that her daughter was pregnant! 
     Not exactly responsive to the question, but Grace is an adult... which makes her answer even sadder!
     Now, anyone that knows us knows that Cheryl and I will never get a divorce.
     This was just a hypothetical question... you know... to pass the time in the car... coincidentally made at the exact time when I've been redoing my will and trying to gauge who is with me and who isn't.
     Aah... we'll stay together. In fact, this past Thursday was an anniversary of ours. The anniversary of the day that I asked Cheryl to marry me. Twenty-five years ago.
     As I recall, it was the hottest day of the century. I asked her at Great Falls where we had had one of our first dates. I pretended to drop the ring into the rapids... and the rest is history.
     My mom and my sister were not too keen on the fact that I was proposing because Cheryl and I  had only been dating for six weeks. I am guessing that Cheryl's parents probably weren't so sure about it either. Like any good future son-in-law, I had gone to speak to her parents before I popped the question. For some reason, they thought I was there to talk to them about buying a car.
     Think about that... why would I ask complete strangers about buying a car?
     I was there to let her parents know I was going to marry their daughter. I had done my research and I knew Cheryl loved me... and that she would say yes.    
     Happily, the marriage has worked out.
     It was the right decision twenty-five years ago and there has not been one single day of doubt.
     And for those of you who think my question in the car was silly, I was just doing my research and seeing which of my kids love me the best.
     It worked once... why change now!

Funny Guy Friday... Miss Alabama and Me...

    Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
    The other day, I flipped on the television and saw a story about Miss Alabama. It would appear that she filmed herself giving an impassioned speech about the awful shootings in Dallas. She was crying and lamenting the fact that she had no feelings about the shootings and that she considered the shooter... a martyr!
    As I watched Miss Alabama's video, which she had posted on some social media vehicle, and then her attempt to explain herself and walk back her comments, I turned to Cheryl and expressed my disgust. In the course of my diatribe, I rhetorically asked Cheryl... why do people need to publish every single thought they have or event that occurs in their life on social media... and why do people think anyone really cares about their thoughts? I hate social media and want no parts of it in my life!
    Then it occurred to me… for five years straight, I have done exactly the thing I despise. Anybody… and I do mean anybody... can log onto my wife's blog and read about my every thought… and I'm pretty sure people do care about what I think.
     I was bewildered and confused by this realization and struggled to come up with some distinction between me and Miss Alabama (besides her high cheekbones and beautiful skin). There has to be something that differentiates the two of us. It took me a while to figure it out but eventually, I did.
     First of all, Miss Alabama is not very funny.
     I, on the other hand, am hilarious!  Modest and hilarious. I take some random event and with my formula of 80% truth, 15% exaggeration and 5% fiction. I spin a clever yarn making people laugh along the way. At least I think people are laughing. I hope that people are laughing!
     Yes, yes, they are laughing because I am funny!
     Second, my thoughts and ramblings don't ever offend anybody… with the possible exception of my wife… my sons… my daughter… my daughter's boyfriend… my sister Michel… my mother… my mother-in-law (whom I would stop offending if she would ever call me by my given name instead of always referring to me as Funny Boy)… my sister-in-law... my other sister-in-law... okay, all of my sisters-in-law… the lady at Toys R Us… the dude in my neighborhood that pointed at me… my law partner… my secretary… a couple of the eleven-year-olds on Noah's team… nephews… nieces… people that look like their dogs… a brown mouse named Reggie... an entire church choir assembly… an occasional priest… a few politicians… a judge… and a lawyer or two.
     Okay… perhaps I have offended a few people along the way... but never an entire nation!
     Third, I have never taken the time to write a FGF, rewrite that FGF, have it edited, reviewed the edited version, had Cheryl post it on Facebook and then declare that the particular post is not me! It is not who I am! It does not represent the way I was raised and I am a big fan of the person or the institution that I just offended.  I DON'T BACK PEDAL!
      I offend and I press on!
      Finally, I try to avoid the more controversial topics. In fact, I believe that if you went back and read a bunch of my previous FGF's, you would be hard pressed to figure out who I might vote for in the upcoming election or my religion or that my favorite sport is baseball or that I love my wife and kids more than anything else in this world.
      Okay, maybe if you read a few old FGF's real carefully, you could figure out all those things pretty easily... except for the President thing... I don't know who I am voting for. I do know who I am not voting for, so that might help you figure it out.
      I suppose the real question is will I vote at all. I digress...
      As easy to read as I am, you can pretty much figure out that I don't really give a rat's rear end what Miss Alabama thinks.  She is free to have her opinion... as misguided as it may be... and she is free to express that opinion any way she pleases.
      However, I do have one simple bit of advice. If you are going to express your opinions to the entire world... try to be funny!
      People eat that up!
      You know it occurred to me that I may have upset Miss Alabama and her supporters. That was not my intention. That is not me.  I was not raised that way.
      Roll Tide.

Funny Guy Friday... The Fourth of July...

    Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
    What an interesting Fourth of July weekend!
    It all started on the drive home from work on Friday. Grace was in a great mood because she was going to get up the next morning and get a ride to meet her boyfriend and go back to his parents' home near Philadelphia.
     I interrupt this regularly scheduled story about my Fourth of July Weekend to give a testimonial about today's common core math...
     Earlier in the week, Grace had asked Cheryl and me if we could drive her all the way to boyfriend's parents' home so she could surprise him.  I mentioned that I did not want to drive three and half hours up and three and half hours back on the first day of the long weekend. She insisted it was only two and a half hours each way.
     After much discussion of the matter, we decided it would be better to let boyfriend know that she was coming and meet him at the last rest stop before leaving Maryland going into Delaware (about an hour and fifteen minute drive from our home). Grace thought that this arrangement wasn't fair because boyfriend (I can't even say his name... and I like the kid) would have to drive nearly three hours and we are only driving one!  
     Okay, I am no math major but let's do a world problem... if a parent leaves with a daughter and drives one hour and fifteen minutes to meet boyfriend and that same daughter's boyfriend drives three hours to meet same daughter, the total driving time for all parties involved is... If you guessed four hours and fifteen minutes, you are correct. When I pointed this out to Grace, she just mentioned something about approximations.
    Back to my originally planned story about our Fourth of July weekend...
    The day before Grace left, on my drive home, Cheryl called to report that it was a rare night when everyone was going to be home. No practices, no games, no babysitting jobs, and no meetings. Cheryl announced that nobody was going anywhere and we were going to just enjoy each other's company. 
    In principle, that is a great idea. The fact of the matter is that we do eat dinner together almost every night. We either eat before everyone runs off to their various events, or we eat when everyone returns home from their various events.  We have been doing this for years.
    Practically speaking, once the meal is over, we're done. How did Cheryl plan on keeping everyone in the same room without cell phones or iPads. I had brought home some steaks and once they were grilled, we are talking 15 to 20 minutes tops for eating. Clearly, Cheryl had not thought this plan entirely through. It did not matter to her though, we are hanging out together and having fun come hell or high water. 
     At that very moment, I had a stroke of genius. What is the one meal that will keep everyone together for hours.
     If you are from Maryland, you should know the answer to this question.
     What is the one meal that all Marylanders know will last well into the night?
     Crabs.
     If you have never been part of a Maryland crab feast, it is kind of hard to explain. The crabs are  the stars of the show but not exactly the main course. You either eat them before the other food, which is typically burgers or dogs... usually not something as great as steak but that was what we had planned before I hatched my brilliant plan... some corn and potato salad.
     Admittedly some folks will have the corn and the potato salad and just the crabs but that is wrong. You have to have some main meat course to fill you up. Crabs do not ever fill you up. You get tired of cleaning them before you ever get full from the crab meat.
     Cleaning a crab is a work of art. Our kids were taught at a young age and once they got past the age of four, it was every man for himself.  My position on this was made clear to the kids at a very young age. You eat what you clean... do not look to me to shell that bad boy for you... I am not your grandfather. You are on your own kiddo. 
     And heaven help the kid that didn't properly and completely clean all of the meat out of the crab because that was just wasteful. We used to check every pile of discarded shells to ensure maximum crab intake. We only have so many and if you can't do it right, step away from the table! There will be no wasting!
     There are several effective ways to clean a crab but only two strategies for eating. The best method is to eat as you go. Each tasty morsel goes from the crab to the mouth. The second method is to make a pile and eat it all at one time at the end of the picking. This method requires patience... which I don't have. In fact, we only have one stock piler and that is Noah. The risk you run with stocking your crab meat is poachers. I hate poachers. They sit away from the table and then swoop in to check on the goings on...  Oh, let me have just a little taste! 
    NO! You want some, you get your hands dirty!
    Poaching crab meat in our house is a hangable offense.
    While I am at it... another pet peeve of mine is when people pick a crab out of the pile to feel how heavy it is... and then put it back if it feels light. Eat what you touch... don't leave the light ones for everyone else. How is that fair?
     Anyway, crabs are delicious! So delicious that our kids are willing to sit and eat them for hours.
     As luck would have it, I passed a woman selling live crabs on the side of the road. I asked her how many I could get for eighty dollars, which was all the money I had in my wallet.
     Thirty.  Oh yeah, did I mention that they are not cheap! This also explains why we used to monitor our kids' discarded piles.
     My crab lady hooked me up with some beauties. Typically, I don't cook them myself, but this was just another opportunity to bond with the family. A little beer, a little sea salt and a lot of Old Bay. Old Bay is the mother's milk when it comes to crab eating. You douse them in it when you cook them and you keep a pile of it for dipping. Some people use vinegar for dipping but I only like vinegar when it is saturated with Old Bay!
     Needless to say, our crab feast was a huge success. We sat around the table until about ten o'clock. No phones and no iPads. The fact that our hands were full of crab goo ensured that nobody touched their devices.
     Honestly, the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful. When the Fourth rolled around, Grace was with nameless boyfriend, Matthew and Noah were visiting at friends' homes and my mother went out to dinner with my sister in law. Cheryl and I found ourselves home with nothing to do.
     Wait a second... WAIT ONE SECOND... we found ourselves at home on the Fourth of July with nothing to do.  Can you say fireworks?
     Yeah... neither can I.
     We had an all American Fourth of July meal... sushi (Cheryl's choice) and watched a movie.
     On the one hand, we enjoyed our quiet time together but on the other hand, I really missed having the kids around.
     It got me thinking that next year, I am going to do something that will keep the kids home on the Fourth of July. Wonder what I could do?
     Hmm, if you're from Maryland, you should know the answer to this question.